T'was a few minutes past time.
Smiles and shines up on stage,
Instruments poised to tell a life,
Await the conductor's wave.
Alas he's here tiny quick steps.
As he raises his hands,
A major revolt behind him commences.
Up above, boisterous children let loose a horrendous din.
The little pack of fury turned,
His ego,
Challenged by strolling-in reinforcements.
Their nonchalance,
Fumes the tension-saturated air.
Shouts, yells, chatter, screams
Yet the silence below
Deafening
The conductor stood.
Revolt yet to cease.
Wore woes on his face,
Yet bore a pride that commanded peace.
Yes, all but the selfish were worthy to receive,
What the purity of the magical notes had to give.
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